Long before I knew how to name my feelings, I knew how to lose myself in a story—and in doing so, I was already healing, somewhere between the pages of my favorite books.
I started reading from a very tender age, beginning with the comprehensive books handed out in school. Over time, I found myself gravitating toward my father’s shelf, and later, the corners of the school library where forgotten treasures waited quietly.
What began as a curious habit quickly became a core part of me—more personality than pastime. Reading turned into my refuge, the one constant I returned to when I needed to escape reality, find clarity, or simply feel something.
Books became more than just ink and paper. They were companions—silent, faithful, and always present. Carrying a book, even when I knew I wouldn’t flip through the pages that day, felt like carrying a friend who’d stay with me through the chaos. A familiar presence in an unpredictable world.
Books have helped shape me—helped raise the girl I was, nurture the lady I am, and guide the woman I’m still becoming. They gave me words before I had experiences. They gave me understanding before I had reasons to seek it. I knew what heartbreak looked like before I ever experienced it. I could recognize loneliness, not just as an emotion, but as a shadow that sits beside you quietly—because I’d seen it live inside characters who somehow felt like mirrors of me.
Often, I turn to books before I turn to people. It’s not because I don’t trust others, but because books have never failed to hold space for me. Through their pages, I have gained insight into the lives and emotions of others. I’ve learned to articulate my own feelings, to make sense of the confusing swirl of sadness, joy, grief, desire, and hope that comes with simply being alive. Books gave me emotional vocabulary. Sometimes, I walk into real-life moments with echoes of fictional ones—as if I’ve already been there. As if my favorite characters whispered a heads-up on how to hold myself together.
Reading taught me how to self-regulate, how to pause and listen. And how to keep loving, even when it hurts. I read widely and deeply—fan fiction, contemporary fiction, self-help, non-fiction. I’ve wept over books like A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah, books that cracked open my empathy and left it raw. Some novels made me feel like the author knew my secrets. Others—like The Blue Sisters by Coco Mellors—made me wish I could forget just to experience them again for the first time.
There were stories so heartbreakingly beautiful, I felt like I needed to put my emotions away just to keep turning the pages.
Even now, I’m still reading. Still healing. Still finding pieces of myself in stories. And I pass this love on. I founded Tales and Tea with Tee, a book club for people who love language and want to connect through literature. It’s a space for thinkers, feelers, and quiet revolutionaries who believe in the power of words. Because no matter how much life shifts, this part of me—this love for reading—remains unchanged. It’s where I go when life gets too real. Or not real enough.
Books are, indeed, a literary lifeline. They are more than stories. They are anchors. They are lessons. They are survival kits disguised as fiction. They are lighthouses for lost souls. They are invitations to pause, to feel, to remember we are human. They ask nothing of us, except to show up. And when we do, they meet us exactly where we are—with patience, with grace, and with all the words we didn’t know we needed.
Words have always been there—quiet, waiting, ready. They’ve kept me afloat when I didn’t know I was drowning.
And sometimes, that’s all we need: A lifeline made of language.
So yes! My story, like so many others, is proof that words can heal. Books have held me in my loneliest moments, reflected back truths I couldn’t say out loud, and gifted me language when I was speechless. They’ve helped me survive, grow, and keep going.
And if this piece does anything, I hope it reminds someone else that words are powerful—soft enough to soothe, strong enough to carry, and honest enough to heal.
Fatimah Yusuf Usman is a writer, book club founder, and literary curator passionate about storytelling and emotional honesty. Through her community Tales and Tea with Tee, she creates space for readers to connect deeply over literature. When she’s not reading, writing, or organizing literary events, she’s thinking about the next story that will move her or someone else.
Instagram: fatimahborkono_
Twitter: fatimah_borkono
Location: Abuja
Fatima came in second place for her submission to Aida’s Whimsical Reading Party: The Literary Lifeline.
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